‘I Began to Question My Sanity’: Dealing with Abusive Relationships and the Aftermath of Trauma

By Kirsten Bos

Growing up, I was not taught healthy boundaries, self-love or proper relationship skills because I never saw that type of relationship. Instead, I grew up with a skewed outlook on love.

I have always had an empathetic soul. My heart yearns to give, help, and fix. Often, it went unnoticed or unwanted. Patterns of unhealthy, unstable friendships and relationships emerged with the same lesson every time. Yet I still couldn’t grasp what I was doing wrong. It was like Einstein’s Theory of Insanity: doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. I was pouring from an empty cup, abusing myself by denying myself the simple things I needed.

Service became my love language. ‘I and me’ were not a part of my vocabulary. I never knew how to say no or how to set my own boundaries. I feared disappointing people and having them upset with me. Going through my entire life this way, I became extremely co-dependent, only feeling like I was worth something when I had external validation. In truth, I was entangled in an abusive relationship with myself.

I decided to find solace in a little baggy and at the bottom of a bottle. I could finally relax, think and feel less. I attracted broken souls; I was broken too. I was a mirror, attracting fellow unwell people. You become who you hang out with. I was sick and unwell, so that’s who I surrounded myself with.

The worse it got, the worse I got. I taught people how to treat me because I mistreated myself. I had to be better. Try harder. I needed to do more to be enough, to be a light in their life – but my light was burnt out. I was in denial because I was the one who needed fixing and help the whole time.

My last relationship was the ultimate breaker. He had the power to make me feel safe. Special. He’d run me baths with candles, he’d bring me flowers and coffee to work, he’d open my door when he took me out. He bought me a beautiful promise ring. He created dreams and a future with me. He wanted me to be my best, listened to me, wrote me love letters. I felt hope, safety, and love.

Unfortunately, he knew he had that control over me. He knew he could give me the love I needed. Just as easily, he knew that he could take it away. There were always strings attached. I had to be ‘good’. I always apologised and tried to fix the problems he created. I hated how fragile I’d become. He’d trash the flowers, ruin things, hold things against me, always questioning where I was and who I was with.

I began to question my every thought and move – my sanity. I became quieter and more reserved, scared to leave the house. Family and friends begged me to leave. I was so sick that eventually people began to pull away.

The moment he put his hands on me, I died inside. Whatever was left disappeared. I had gone through emotional, mental and verbal abuse before. But physical abuse from someone I thought had saved me shook me to the core.

In no way is it okay for someone to abuse someone in any form. Choosing how you deal with it is up to you. The whole time I was choosing people who didn’t deserve the time of day even though I had people that actually cared in my life. I chased the wrong people and things. This knight in shining armour became my biggest nightmare but also my safe haven. I ran from him, only to run back.

Compliments seemed foreign. A raised hand or swift movement made me flinch. A gift or appraisal made me suspicious. I began self-harming. I constantly said sorry, always walking on eggshells. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. I stopped showering, wearing makeup and eating. I only craved alcohol, drugs and isolation.

I spoke with a close friend who made me realise enough was enough. I went home with fear and courage. I explained myself, packed my things soon after and finally left. I felt scared but free – even euphoric, at first.

In the aftermath of all of this, I sought therapy for my trauma, but after a few sessions, I quit going. I was still on adrenaline and hadn’t processed anything. I moved and got a new job, but the partying was daily. I became aggressive, violent and vengeful. Something in me switched off, and I only lived for my addiction.

I laid out what was left of my life and lit a match because as far as I knew there was nothing left of me. I didn’t care if I died; I started going out, expecting not to come home. I was suicidal and slowly killing myself.

It took me a year to lose myself completely but also a whole year to realise this had to end one way or another: either my family would put me six feet under, or I could search deep within to find something – anything – to grasp onto for any hope of a fulfilling life.

I had no other option but rehab. I was afraid. I had done rehab before but had failed miserably because I went for everyone but myself. I had to fail and fall on my face a lot to realise I had to want the help for me and not anyone else. The loneliness of my life and the void I’d fallen into was inescapable before this realisation.

I treated the symptoms all these years, but I never addressed the illness. I treated myself as parts, not a whole. I kept trying so hard to kill myself and ruin my body when all my body had ever done was heal me because it wanted me to live. Twenty-five years of it screaming ‘love yourself!’ finally broke through. I didn’t enjoy my addiction. With tears in my eyes, I stared blankly out the window. Finally, I whispered the words, ‘I surrender.’

Those words are clear as day in my head. In that moment, my whole body sighed with relief. I admitted defeat and admitted that my life was completely un-fucking-manageable. I felt the weight of a thousand burdens lift off my chest. Admitting defeat wasn’t weak. If anything, it was the strongest thing I have ever done.

Instead of being selfish, I decided to be self-first. It was the start of a new chapter, a new life. Deciding to put me first for once was amazing. I learned how to set boundaries and how to respect and heal myself. I experienced growth and started my path toward self-love. I began to rewire my brain, and I learned how to cope, reason and think rationally.

Having to relearn my entire life is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Realising I was co-dependent, that I needed help and that my life was unmanageable was a complete eye opener and a life-saver.

Abusive relationships with myself and others and not addressing the aftercare of the aftermath led me to the ultimate breakdown and path of destruction. Each event set itself up like a domino path waiting for me to push it over.

My last abusive relationship was my final wake-up call. It helped me realise that I will never accept anything less than the best. It taught me that I am a force to be reckoned with. It taught me that I will never allow anyone to cross my boundaries, disrespect me or lay hands on me ever again.

Sharing my story has scared me. Now, I am softer and kinder, I have patience and coping skills. I take care of myself. It may be a lifetime of healing and growing, but I am dedicated to my journey of self-love. I am writing again, sleeping easier, having fewer nightmares, fewer panic attacks. I am getting to know myself.

The last couple of months have been hard. I’ve had to sit in sober discomfort – sit with myself and my thoughts. I had to process, dig deep and remember the hurt. I had to talk about my fears, failures and traumas. The effort and hard work it’s taken has been worth it. The sparkle is back in my eyes; I can look people in the eyes. I can accept compliments and genuinely smile and laugh again.

Abusive relationships – and the aftermath – if not addressed can destroy you. And don’t forget that the biggest thing is to deal with the abusive relationship you have with yourself. Don’t ever settle; know your worth and love who you are. There is one you, and at the end of the day, you’re all you have.

Begin to forgive yourself. Be the one you always needed.